


sometimes things fall apart

by TimeTurnedFragile



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Maycury Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 19:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeTurnedFragile/pseuds/TimeTurnedFragile
Summary: It wasn't anger in Freddie's voice, wasn't anything that easy. Anger Brian's used to; he knows when to push past it and when to leave it alone, mostly. This isn't anger, this is something scarier, something like not being in love.





	sometimes things fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> written for day one of maycury week, for the prompt: “i’m sorry, i can’t do this any more”
> 
> i dont know how much i'm going to be able to participate, but i'll do at least one more day, so that i don't only contribute a fucking break up fic. i'll do a uni au or sleepy morning sex or anything that isn't breaking up my favorites, i promise.

They've been together for three hundred and twenty seven days, though Brian doesn't know this until he looks at the calendar later that night. It's a Tuesday. They're in a dressing room, unfamiliar and distractingly clean, and Brian's noodling around on his guitar. He stops when Freddie says, "you know, sometimes it's really hard to love you."

This isn't said conversationally, not jokingly, not even in Freddie's bitchy voice, the one he uses when he wants things to hurt. This is said quiet and defeated, and Brian doesn't know what he could possibly say in response. He doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything, just seizes up, and pretends he isn't listening to the sound of Freddie getting up and leaving the room. Leaving him, and even if that's melodramatic and kind of not true, not technically, Brian's still breathlessly afraid.

_I don't mean to,_ he tells the room. _I don't mean to make you mad._ But it wasn't anger in Freddie's voice, wasn't anything that easy. Anger Brian's used to; he knows when to push past it and when to leave it alone, mostly. This isn't anger, this is something scarier, something like not being in love.

Brian's sitting there, shaking, helplessly in love, and he thinks _I don't mean to, I don't mean to._

* * *

There aren't any apologies. There's just the show, Freddie on stage next to him, Brian mechanically playing the notes, not ever looking over. There are Freddie's hands, white knuckled on his mic, and there is Brian's voice, quavering ever so slightly on a note he usually has down. When the show is over, there is changing into ordinary clothing, back to back, never facing, and there is the bus ride to their hotel. 

There's not looking at one another as they enter the room, the same room, and as they take separate beds. Freddie showers first, then Brian, and when Brian comes out of the shower, Freddie's already in bed. He's pretending he's asleep, but Brian knows what he sounds like when he's asleep. This isn't it.

Brian crawls into bed, the other one, after turning out the lights, and says, "Fred." Freddie's still quiet, but Brian can practically feel his eyes slide open in the dark, adjusting. "Freddie, I know you're awake."

Freddie doesn't say anything, and Brian whispers, "I love you,"loud enough that Freddie will hear but not loud enough to make it something heavy, something that will stand in the way of things. Brian can feel it settle hard against their chests anyway.

"Go to sleep,"Freddie says finally, but Brian can't.

* * *

Brian hasn't slept at all by the time morning's come. He's stared at the ceiling, and he's stared at Freddie's bed, and he's closed his eyes and tried to stare into himself. Freddie hasn't slept either, and they both startle at the alarm, fake waking even though they're not fooling anyone. Freddie snores and Brian talks in his sleep, and it's been quiet all night.

Freddie's dressing in a corner, his back to Brian. Brian just watches, his hands loosely fisted, feeling like a voyeur even though he's memorized those shoulder blades, the knobs of that spine. He's memorized it all, and right now he feels like he'll forget if he doesn't keep looking, so he looks, and he looks hard. 

When he changes, he can feel Freddie's eyes on his back.

When they get to the venue for soundcheck, they spread out; Freddie stays on one side of the stage and Brian stays on the other. He's tired, but more than that, he's sick to his stomach, waiting for the end, waiting for Freddie to come out and lay it all out, to tell him why it isn't possible to love him.

Freddie doesn't come near him until he has to, until they’re about to head on stage for the concert and everyone is gathered together, and by that time Brian's almost angry. Almost, but mostly scared, mostly terrified. Freddie won't meet his eyes, and that's all Roger and Deaky are trying to do, to catch his eyes and glean some sort of information. Brian keeps his eyes on Freddie.

The concert that night is probably one of the best they've had. Freddie sings and dances his heart out, and Brian fills himself with every one of the songs' words, comforted by the fact Freddie sings even Brian’s own words. 

* * *

Brian is crashing in Roger’s room’s to avoid Freddie. Brian wouldn't be able to sleep if he hadn't been awake for thirty-six hours, if he couldn't hear Roger’s steady breathing from the bed across from him. He wakes up feeling more exhausted than when he'd fallen asleep and he almost thinks he deserves it, deserves some sort of punishment for managing to sleep through the breaking of his heart.

When he stumbles down the hall to his and Freddie's room, Freddie's there on the couch, feet tucked up beneath him. John is fast asleep beside him, face hidden in the armrest. Brian wonders if Freddie slept through the breaking of Brian's heart as well. He wonders if they both slept through Freddie's heart drifting away.

"Freddie_,_" he starts.

"Shh," Freddie says, "you'll wake Deaky up."

There's nothing that Brian wants more right then than to wake Deaky up. He wants to yell and scream and throw things and burst into tears and shake Freddie and make him love him again, but instead he just nods, turns right back around to Roger’s room and climbs into Roger’s bed.

Roger mumbles incomprehensibly, shifts to give Brian room. "Roger," Brian whispers into the back of his neck. "No one loves me, Roger Taylor." Brian whispers because if he raised his voice any, it'd be shaking. He knows this because he's been whispering for the past two days.

"I love you," Roger murmurs, but it's not the same. Brian loves Roger too, but it’s just not the same. 

* * *

"Is it someone else?" Brian asks, and he searches Freddie's face for a flicker of guilt, for some sort of change. "Is it something I did? What is it?"

"It isn't anything," Freddie says, and there's nothing in his face but weariness, nothing there for Brian to find, to pick apart and put back together and make his own. "It just happens."

But it doesn't. It doesn't just happen. It can't. People can't love one minute and then forget the next. It doesn't work like that for Brian. He doesn't understand it. He doesn't understand how he can sit here, so in love, and Freddie can sit across from him, expressionless and empty of everything he felt for Brian.

"How long have you felt like this? " Brian asks finally, and he doesn't whisper. He doesn't whisper, and his voice is shaking, and Freddie can only look away.

"Awhile," he says, and Brian thinks _oh, _can only nod even though all he wants to do is shake his head, to throw his arms around Freddie and refuse to let go, to press him back against the bed and change his mind.

"_Please,_" Brian says, and he doesn't know what he's asking for, not exactly, but he knows he needs it like breathing.

Freddie turns back to look at him, and his face is screwed up like all he wants to do is cry, and he shakes his head, and says "Brian, I’m sorry, I can't do this any more," and his voice is shaking too.

Freddie's been whispering this whole time; Brian's just been too busy searching for meaning to catch his pitch.

* * *

He doesn't quit, doesn't abandon Queen. It's the most selfish and the most selfless thing that Brian's ever done, the most masochistic and greedy and helpless thing he could ever do. He watches Freddie's back, the brush of his hair against his neck, the flex of his muscles under cloth, and he thinks _love me again, love me, I'll do anything _at Freddie. Freddie never turns around, but Brian can't stop thinking it.


End file.
